


I know not who I am

by If_you_had_had_a_sister



Series: Frédéric Chopin and George Sand [5]
Category: 19th Century CE RPF, Classical Music RPF, Historical RPF
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Teaching piano
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:48:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29506458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/If_you_had_had_a_sister/pseuds/If_you_had_had_a_sister
Summary: Long awaited, 12 days, I know, but I was reading Dracula which gave me no writing inspiration. I’m sorry but inspiration struck now and here I am with a George Sand and Frédéric Chopin fan fiction!Please do enjoy!
Relationships: Frédéric Chopin/George Sand
Series: Frédéric Chopin and George Sand [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2138421
Kudos: 1





	I know not who I am

**Author's Note:**

> Long awaited, 12 days, I know, but I was reading Dracula which gave me no writing inspiration. I’m sorry but inspiration struck now and here I am with a George Sand and Frédéric Chopin fan fiction!  
> Please do enjoy!

I sat with her by the piano, watching her practice octaves and other such dreary things. She was so talented, how could no one had noticed in her childhood and made a musician out of her.  
When she had practiced some time and was satisfied, she looked up at me with a proud look on her face.  
“Is it like this?”  
I nodded proudly at her.  
“You are so wonderful, learn so fast, I must say I am so very proud of you! Now let’s take the prelude, shall we?” She nodded back and started playing what she could remember from last time we sat here. She was so wonderfully splendid at it, she had remembered so much, oh I wish that I had written it as she played it, for it was so perfect, far better than my original version! She had become so good, she must have had practiced when I was asleep, for I had been at home at all times, unless I had been walking with her and I have never heard as much as a note from the piano, when I wasn’t sitting at it! She played her own perfect version of it, she had already learned so much and I admired her to no end!  
So perfect compared to simple me, so interesting and complex. Changing between her motherly and feminine person to her masculine and protective one and to whatever this soft and childish creature who sat besides me was. And oh how I have often pondered about her, why one day it is suits and waistcoats and the next it is pretty floral dresses! How come she not be able to choose, to settle on something at least in between? I thought that I should say something to her, ask her while she was there with me but I couldn’t bring myself to it, what if it ruined her mood? Her perfect happy mood, oh I couldn’t dream of it. But I was still curious, and I knew that we wouldn’t talk again till bedtime for she was always out and about in the town when she wasn’t with me. But bedtime then, yes, then I should ask her. 

The day had grown dark and cold and I was getting into my nightgown alone in the room. What if she didn’t want to come tonight? No, we always slept together at night. And I was right, for soon steps were heard and she sat down on the bed tiredly and lazily began unbuttoning her waistcoat and taking off her jacket.  
“What have you been doing today?” I asked.  
“Not much. Drank a pint or two with a friend of mine, not much.” She lay herself on the bed, half dressed and looked at me, who was already in bed sitting up. I looked back at her and sighed.  
“My George, can I ask you something?”  
She nodded, maybe subconsciously.  
“Why are you always dressed differently and act differently? One day you are feminine with dresses and bonnets and the other you are masculine and when we play, you are someone completely different. I am just curious and confused.”  
She sat up by me and rested her heavy head on my shoulder.  
“Chop.... I don’t know....”  
Long pause.  
“I myself am confused as to who I am. Am I George Sand or Amantine Dupin? Man or woman? I don’t know and I suppose I never shall know..... oh why am I like this?..” she sighed and hugged me in minor distraught.  
“Please...” she sucked in a breath.  
“Forgive me.. but I don’t know... and I don’t think that I can never fully answer you..”  
She looked like she was on the verge of tears, biting her lips and her face scrunching up.  
I was speechless, not out of shock, but because I had never been in a situation with a distressed person with me as their only comfort.  
“I-..George, I am sorry that you feel that way.... you don’t need to know, it’s fine. I still love you and will still love you. Always, my dear George.” I smiled at her, and tucked her close to me. She sniffled and looked up at me with her wet and red face.  
“Thank you.... thank you, my dear Chop. That means so much to me.”


End file.
